


Ravioli Fists

by arthur_pendragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Baby Arthur Pendragon, Canon Era, De-Aged Arthur Pendragon, Gen, Humour, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unexpected Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon
Summary: “Three more weeks, you should be fine,” Gwen told him, looking all regal and stunning with her Queen’s crown and Arthur’sstolenborrowed sceptre. Merlin did up the final lace at her back and stared at her miserably in the mirror.“Do let me know if you want to take over nappy-changing duties, then.”-In which Arthur is cursed to live as a two-year-old brat and somehow retains both his über-prattishness as well as his penchant for running around after Merlin.now with author-drawn art of baby arthur, yay





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for the first part of [this adorable as hell](https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=242446#t242446) prompt!

**I. Merlin**  
  
It wasn’t surprising that Merlin was no less tormented by Arthur’s baby self than Arthur the king. They were seven days into this special hellish nightmare, and Merlin was being terrorised by Arthur as _usual_.  
  
Gaius had assured Merlin and Gwen and everyone else concerned about the ruler of the kingdom being a ~~roly-poly little brat~~ two-year-old boy that the spell, aimed at Arthur in the thick of battle by a (frankly incompetent, Merlin thought) enemy sorcerer, would last no more than a month and Gwen need only act as Queen Regent for that long.  
  
“Three more weeks, you should be fine,” Gwen told him, looking all regal and stunning with her Queen’s crown and Arthur’s ~~stolen~~ borrowed sceptre. Merlin did up the final lace at her back and stared at her miserably in the mirror.  
  
“Do let me know if you want to take over nappy-changing duties, then.”  
  
“I’ll just leave you to it,” Gwen said, hurriedly patting Merlin on the shoulder and leaving for queenly duties or whatever regents did when their king was incapacitated by way of being at an age for waddling instead of striding.  
  
“Oh, hello, Arthur,” Merlin heard Gwen exclaim right outside. “Why’re you in your nightie?”  
  
“Wen, where’s _Mer_ lin?” came an exigent reply. “I want to _play_.”  
  
“He’s right in there, darling.” There was the sound of a noisy, affectionate kiss. Merlin smiled despite himself. Arthur might still be every bit an arrogant, demanding prat as a baby but he was also irresistibly adorable, and Gwen was pants at holding back whenever she saw him. “Have a fun time, love!”  
  
“Bye, Wenny!”  
  
Merlin waited, watching the crack between the door and the jamb carefully.  
  
A blond head poked out from behind the door. Wide blue eyes stared at Merlin. Merlin put his hands on his waist, elbows akimbo.  
  
“Sire,” he started, faking exasperation to hide the rush of oh-lord-Arthur’s-cutie-pie-face-is-so-cute in his chest. “Where’s your escort?”  
  
(Somewhere a hapless knight was running about, fearing execution for losing track of the king.)  
  
“Dunno,” Arthur said, still peeping but not entering the room. “A’you irrt—irrirt—irrirtate—wi’ me?”  
  
“’Course not!” Merlin said, surprised, which meant Arthur toddled out from behind the huge (to him) door and flung himself at Merlin.  
  
Merlin, worryingly having got used to Arthur wanting to be carried by him, caught Arthur deftly. “Cor, you’re fat, aren’t you?” he said, tucking an arm under Arthur’s bum as Arthur buried his head in the crook of Merlin’s neck.  
  
“’M not,” Arthur insisted, grabbing Merlin’s ear. “And your ears are ri _dic_ ’lous.”  
  
“Nothing I haven’t heard for years from your very mouth, Arty-Farty,” Merlin said, exiting the room. “Let’s go find the poor Sir Caradoc and tell him he isn’t going to die, yeah?”  
  
“And then we play?”  
  
“And then we play,” Merlin agreed.  
  
“Swords and sorcerers,” Arthur said, waving an arm in the air and looking haughtily at all the servants who passed them, scrunching his nose and scowling ~~cutely~~ fiercely at them. It most definitely did not work and instead caused every single chambermaid and scullery boy to melt into puddles of _aww_.  
  
“Swords and bandits,” Merlin corrected, walking swiftly towards Gaius’s chambers, where the knight would doubtless be begging the court physician for mercy.  
  
“I said sorcerers,” Arthur bellowed into Merlin’s ear.  
  
Merlin grabbed Arthur’s face with one hand, squishing his cheeks together. Arthur looked slightly alarmed. “I thought I told you never to shout into my ears again?”  
  
Arthur blew a raspberry at Merlin, giggling.  
  
Merlin released Arthur’s cheeks and gave up, patting his bum instead. There was no fighting a tubby baby Arthur.  
  
Arthur chattered away the entire walk to Gaius and Merlin’s rooms, with Merlin spacing out most of the time (half of what Arthur spoke was gibberish, anyway). But when Merlin knocked on Gaius’s door, Arthur wound his arms around Merlin’s neck, planted a wet kiss on his cheek and whispered,  
  
“Love you, Merlinnie,” which made Merlin grit his teeth to prevent himself from beaming so hard his face broke.


	2. Chapter 2

**II. Hunith**

Hunith led an easy life in Ealdor. A far easier life than her son’s, she was certain, since even though she worked her fingers to the bone daily, she never had to be constantly looking out for the welfare of the sovereign at the same time.

So when Merlin sent her a secret missive, begging her to come urgently to the castle for an emergency, she packed a satchel and set out instantly. Two knights (Gwaine and Lancelot, their names were) met her at the border of Camelot and escorted her all the way to the castle courtyard, where Gaius was waiting.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Hunith enquired. The knights had been extremely courteous around her and playful with each other, but they only grinned secretively and stayed mum when she’d tried to ask sneaky questions.

“Well, it’s just something you’ll have to see for yourself,” Gaius replied, shaking his head and leading her to his rooms.

Hunith prepared herself to face the absolute worst as she pushed open the door.

“Mother!” Merlin grinned at her, sitting crosslegged on the floor beside a teary knight, rubbing his shoulder seemingly in consolation. Hunith grinned back, feeling a flood of affection at seeing her dearest son. She sighed inwardly, seeing his thin frame and bony face. He clearly wasn’t eating enough. And his hair needed a trim, and what was that on top of—

Oh, my.

“Is that—”

“Yup,” Merlin said cheerily, swatting gently at the tiny fists bunching his hair. A golden-haired little boy sat on Merlin’s shoulders, legs dangling on either side of his neck. He was resting his chin on Merlin’s head and playing with Merlin’s (he really needed a good cut, for heaven’s sake, that boy) hair. He hadn’t noticed their new visitors.

“It is the king you see, Hunith,” said Gaius, ushering her in before shutting the door securely behind them. Hunith set her satchel down near the entrance and hesitantly approached the knight and Merlin, despite Merlin’s enthusiastic beckoning.

“Sit down, mum,” Merlin said, patting the space beside him. The baby boy, apparently Arthur Pendragon, _king of Camelot_ , chose that moment to sneeze into Merlin’s head. “Ugh, you grotty little sprog,” Merlin groaned, pulling a hanky out of his pocket and manoeuvring Arthur into his lap. He shoved two ends of the hanky up Arthur’s nose. Arthur dutifully made sputtering noises as Merlin cleaned him up, and beamed when Merlin pulled a face at him.

Hunith smiled into her palm, joining Merlin on the floor. Gaius went to make a meal for her, bless his kind soul. The knight beside Merlin stopped sniffling as Arthur transferred his beam to him.

“What did you need me for, love?” Hunith asked.

“You see, mum,” Merlin began, tossing the handkerchief far, far, _far_ away, “Arthur here’s been turned into a two-year-old brat and we’ve barely managed to survive seven days so far. We all agreed he needs a mother’s care—and none of us are mothers or have a clue what to do—so I thought I’d ask you for help. And that way I get to see you again! Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

By this time, Arthur had fixed Hunith with a beady, unwavering stare and dug hook-like fingers into Merlin’s front. Hunith felt her heart puddling at the sight of those round, red cheeks.

“Of course I’ll help, Merlin,” she said, smiling at Arthur.

“Arty-Farty, look, that’s Hunith, my mum,” Merlin said, propping Arthur up and pointing to Hunith. “Say hello to mum.”

“That’s Hunny, my mum?” Arthur asked. Merlin grinned.

“That’s Hunith, _my_ mum.”

“That’s Hunny, _my_ mum,” Arthur said, as if _Merlin_ was the wrong one. His suspicions from before having seemingly evaporated, he clambered into Hunith’s lap from Merlin’s to better look at her. Hunith held him steady, not forgetting who Arthur really was. What if he’d remember all this when the curse was lifted?

“You _are_ lifting the curse, aren’t you?” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

Merlin, prodding the now-composed knight to stand up and go back to doing whatever knights did, said, “Well, yeah, but the sorcerer who cast it was a dimwit and we think it’ll lift by itself in about three weeks. Bye, Sir Caradoc! Don’t worry too much about this brat here.”

Hunith sighed. Camelot was chaos.

“Hello, Hunny-mum,” Arthur said solemnly, cupping her face in his dainty, soft hands. Hunith was instantly reminded of Merlin’s baby days. Merlin had been just as delicate, although Arthur couldn’t make utensils and chairs fly around in glee. “I’m Prince Ah-thur. Please to make your uck—uckwain—” he faltered.

“Acquaintance,” Merlin said. Hunith’s breath caught as she saw the tender, doting look on her son’s face. “Stop trying to say fancy words, Arty-Farty, you’re clearly sh—”

“Merlin,” Hunith said.

“Ahem.”

Arthur kissed Hunith’s cheek in lieu of a handshake, nodded once, and let himself be lifted back into Merlin’s arms. “Merlinnie is an _idiot_ ,” he told Hunith. Merlin rolled his eyes and rubbed his knuckles into Arthur’s crown. Arthur squealed but to Hunith’s surprise only clung tighter to Merlin.

“He’s even worse of a tyrant at two, honestly,” Merlin said, hooking Arthur’s arms around his neck and easily rising to help Gaius with the lunch plates. Arthur peered at everything curiously and was either ignoring the tyrant jibe or hadn’t understood it. “Tyrant means meanie, Arty.”

“You’re the meanie!” Arthur said immediately.

“ _You’re the meanie!_ ” Merlin parroted. “Here, mum, this chair’s the least creaky. How much stew d’you want?”

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed speedily; Hunith was reintroduced to Gwen—she was quite different as Queen Regent, though Hunith quickly saw she was still the affectionate, darling Gwen of a few years ago—and some other knights who popped in to salute their tyrant brat king and cheer themselves up with his answering giggle. Arthur gladly sequestered himself in Hunith’s arms, distracted by Hunith’s foreign, Ealdorian eccentricities, and Merlin made no effort to leave the room the entire day. He either lounged in a corner of the infirmary reading books, or chatted with her and Gaius and helped the physician concoct something or other. Twice he changed Arthur’s nappy, seemingly forgetting Hunith would know how to do it better.

Hunith wondered; back in Ealdor he usually used to beg an hour or two off from chores but it was entirely unlike Merlin to laze about… _all_ day.

She discovered the reason soon enough.

It was evening when Merlin went to arrange for a pillow and blankets for Hunith. “I’ll be back. Might be a while, though,” he said, and slipped out of the room.

Arthur, dozing in Hunith’s lap, woke ten minutes later.

“ _Mer_ lin?” he asked Hunith.

“He’s just gone to get bedding for us, darling,” Hunith said, tucking a thick lock of golden hair behind Arthur’s tiny, fragile ear.

“ _Mer_ lin isn’t here,” Arthur said, _anxious_! With a shock, Hunith saw tears pooling in Arthur’s eyes. “ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur cried, squirming in Hunith’s embrace, trying to wriggle onto the floor. “Where’s _Mer_ lin?”

“He’ll return soon,” Hunith said. She held Arthur at arm’s length to avoid being hit in the chest by Arthur’s swinging legs while Arthur tried to push her hands down and away. She looked to Gaius for help. Gaius, looking at the tableau, sighed in fond exasperation.

“He’s more attached to Merlin than to any of us,” Gaius said. “He’ll calm down in a minute, but be wary of the sulking.”

Sure enough, Arthur began to look perpetually sullen and stopped responding to Hunith’s mild teasing. Hunith bit her lip. She’d always known her Merlin was incomparably special and that he and Arthur were two sides of a coin, but for him to have his king’s attention like this was simply…

The door opened to admit Merlin, lost behind a pile of quilts and pillows. “Sorry, these are some _heavy_ bast—”

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur shouted, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Hunith gave up and set him down.

Merlin peeked at Arthur from behind the quilt pile. “Crybaby,” he admonished, completely unsurprised. He shuffled towards an unoccupied bit of space in front of the fireplace and set the pile down.

“’M not,” Arthur said, chin wibbling, following Merlin to the hearth. “You _left_!”

“No, I didn’t. I’m back, aren’t I? Look at you, you’re all snotty again, snotty, grotty crybaby.” Merlin wagged a finger at him and went to fetch a clean hanky.

“Shut up,” Arthur sniffled, rubbing at his eyes, trailing after Merlin. “I _missed_ you, Merlinnie.”

And that innocent, honest admission made all three adults in the room tear up and duck their heads to hide it.

* * *

 

Gaius was fast asleep on the put-you-up, having retired for the night a while ago. Hunith helped Merlin arrange the quilts and pillow on the floor, Arthur sitting on one corner, swaying with sleep.

“Won’t he like to sleep somewhere more comfortable?” Hunith asked.

“We tried that. He hates his chambers even if Gwen’s there, and always somehow finds his way here. Gaius nearly had a heart attack when he opened the door at midnight to find this chubby little git curled up outside.” Merlin poked Arthur’s cheek and ruffled his hair. Arthur sleepily swatted Merlin.

Hunith found herself feeling extremely glad to have come to Camelot. Perhaps it wasn’t all chaos after all.

“You’ll take the cot, yeah, mum?”

“I think you should take it, love, you and Arthur—”

“No, he can sleep on the floor like a peasant for a while. Might even learn something. Not to worry. ’S there anything you need? I put a jug of water inside, just in case.”

“All right, Merlin,” Hunith said, fluffing the pillow. Merlin yawned, followed shortly by Arthur. “Night, my love,” Hunith whispered, leaning over to kiss her son on the forehead. Merlin smiled at her, stretching out on the makeshift bed.

“Mummy?” Arthur said quietly.

Hunith and Merlin both stared at a blushing baby Arthur, who was more alert than they’d expected.

“Kiss me night too, mummy?” Arthur asked, shy.

Merlin swallowed and covered his face with his hands, pressing it into the pillow, trying to muffle his heavy breathing.

Hunith, through the prickling in her own eyes, suspected he was trying not to cry, too.

Ygraine’s memory hung in the room, still, peaceful and painful.

“Of course, dear child,” Hunith said. She reached for Arthur and drew him into her arms. “Good night, sweetest king,” she whispered, and planted a loving kiss on Arthur’s head, just as she’d done with Merlin way back when.

“Night, mum,” Arthur said, a pleased smile on his face. He crawled into the hollow formed by Merlin’s curled recline, Merlin’s hand automatically settling on his back as he snuggled into Merlin’s chest.

Hunith made her way to Merlin’s room. She heard Arthur whisper, “Night, Merlinnie,” and Merlin choke out a “Night, Arthur,” as she closed the door silently and lay down on the cot, wondering if she’d fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if that last bit made you cry. If it matters/helps, I cried after I wrote it. ~~I know I'm pretentious feel free to kick me~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  ~~this was supposed to be 100% light, super-fluffy fic ;-; why am I bringing feels into this. i'm not very happy with this chapter but then again i'm not very happy with my writing in general~~  
> 

**III. Gwen**

Gwen knocked on the door to Gaius’s chambers gently. As the queen (regent), she could have sent her maidservant to do this, but waking a sleepy Arthur in the mornings cheered her up hugely and steeled her heart for the day’s duties.

Ruling a kingdom was ~~terrifying~~ strenuous. Arthur had tried his best as king to shield Gwen from the worse aspects of the job; she ached for the soldiers who fell in the line of duty, for the families who looked to her for reassurance. She ran her fingers through barren soil and prayed for Nature’s salvation, wondering at Arthur’s strength to do this every day, year after year. It was a testament to her warmth, diplomacy, and intelligence that even upon hearing of the king’s news—it had been very hard to conceal, what with it happening on the battlefield—no other kingdom sought to interfere.

It turned out war wasn’t all there was to being a ruler—but to Gwen’s fond amusement, Arthur’s toddler self didn’t agree. She looked forward to hearing his opinion in court later.

Gaius opened the door for her, bowing. Gwen shook her head at him. “Really, Gaius, you’ve known me since I was born.”

“That may be the case, but I am still in the presence of the queen.”

“Nevertheless,” Gwen said, craning her neck to search for Merlin, to whom Arthur would undoubtedly be plastered.

“Over by the fireplace,” Gaius said. “Have you had breakfast already?”

“Yes, Gaius, thank you.”

Gwen crept to the hearth. Merlin lay on a bed of quilts, awake if his unnatural stillness was anything to go by. Sprawled over his face was a baby in a nightie, sleeping peacefully as if he were in the finest silk-satin cradle.

“H’lo, Gwen,” Merlin mumbled, voice muffled by Arthur’s weight on him. Gwen snorted at the scene, but she did appreciate that Merlin always let her be the one to bring Arthur back into the waking world.

“Hi, Merlin,” Gwen said. “My turn today. Had a good night’s sleep?”

“Oh, yeah. This brat started crying in the middle of the night and didn’t calm down until Mum made him some broth. Really, the only difference between him and our Arthur is that this one’s just a half-pint.”

“Poor you.”

“Keep your sarcasm to yourself, Wenny,” Merlin said and laughed. Arthur fidgeted. Gwen knelt next to Merlin’s head and took Arthur’s delicate hand in hers.

“Good morning, my love,” Gwen whispered, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. He might not be her love in the traditional sense—theirs was a marriage of friendship and no more, but he was one of the few closest to her. And seeing him be vulnerable and impressionable ~~and unbelievably adorable~~ wrung her heart, making her think about his life as Uther’s son.

Arthur stirred. Merlin didn’t.

“Arthur,” Gwen said, singsong. “Time to wake up.”

It took a minute more of prodding for Arthur to blink awake. Merlin sighed with relief and nudged Arthur off him, sitting up. Gwen gathered Arthur into her arms and smiled as she thumbed at the red imprints all over Merlin’s forehead and cheeks.

“Morning, sire,” Merlin said, yawning. Arthur blinked at him, and reached out with a drowsy arm. Merlin caught his hand with two fingers and a thumb and kissed it.

“Selfish prat, didn’t let me sleep at all.” he muttered. “’M not going to even look at you today.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. Merlin said that every morning.

“Ready for a day at court?” she asked Arthur. Arthur nodded, already dozing off against Gwen’s chest.

“Oi,” Merlin said loudly, snapping his fingers against Arthur’s ear. “Arty. Up you get!”

Arthur screamed gibberish back at him equally loudly—one more thing he had in common with his adult self.

* * *

 

After Gwen and her servants had bathed and clothed Arthur (Arthur liked to splash water at everyone, possibly because they kept all the wine out of reach), it was time for the daily petition hearings.

All the courtiers present in the throne room rose as she swept in with Arthur tottering beside her.

The petitioners filed into the room, asking for pecuniary support, dispute settlements, tax exemptions—all of them toning down their more… extreme emotions as they caught the eye of the fair-haired child sitting attentive and solemn on the queen’s knee. (Somewhere in the castle Merlin was complaining vehemently at Arthur’s ability to be well-mannered with everyone but him.)

Every now and then, when the petitions were frankly risible and it was apparent that the citizens had just wanted a look at the ~~chubby~~ ~~cuddly~~ child king, Gwen would stroke Arthur’s head and ask, “What is your opinion, my king?”

And Arthur would say, “War,” without fail. Every time. “Waaaaar.” (A goat had stumbled into a field and wrecked some grain? War against the goat.)

* * *

 

“I want _Mer_ lin.” Arthur said, waving his miniature wooden sword around and running around Gwen’s room.

“Not yet, dear.” Gwen eyed one of the numbers in her report and pursed her lips.

“I want _Mer_ lin,” Arthur repeated, condemning a bedpost to an eternal nick. “Wenny, will you let me go?”

“Darling, I think he might be a bit busy with Gaius’s chores. Let’s be considerate and wait until he comes to find us?”

The look of utter scorn on Arthur’s face—always visible whenever anyone dared to tell him Merlin was _unavailable_ , what rubbish was this—deepened.

“Wen,” Arthur said, dropping the sword and climbing into Gwen’s lap. “Wenny. Wen. Wen. Wen.”

Gwen sighed. Why must Arthur be so ~~irresistible~~ difficult?

“Yes, darling, what is it?” she asked, setting down her quill to tweak Arthur’s ear.

“I want to play.”

“All right. Let’s play.”

And Arthur left Gwen exhausted and begging for rest after a chase through the entire castle (what would the guards and servants think, honestly, seeing their queen run to stay on Arthur’s heels as Arthur transparently used his opportunity to search for Merlin), culminating in them returning to Gwen’s rooms and collapsing into an armchair together.

“Merlinnie’s gone,” Arthur mumbled, forlorn, pushing his face into Gwen’s side.

“He could never leave you,” Gwen reminds him gently, stroking his hair and wishing she could help Arthur feel better. She was much better at cajoling the older Arthur into letting go of his pain; the tantrums and fears of a two-year-old were simple, innocent, but incredibly hard to dispel.

“’M not a good king,” Arthur sniffled. “They were all laughing today.”

“Oh, love,” Gwen said. “You made them happy. They love you so much that you could make them smile. You’re the best king in history.”

Arthur didn’t respond, only snuggling closer.

“I’m sure Merlinnie’s on his way here,” Gwen said after a while, as she caressed Arthur’s back in a calming rhythm. Arthur didn’t reply. He’d fallen asleep, far more exhausted than Gwen. Maybe Gwen should carry him to the softer bed, this armchair wasn’t exactly the best—

There was a knock on the door, and Merlin popped his head in.

“Someone told me our warmonger king led his queen in a chase through the castle all the way here,” he said, grinning widely.

“There you are,” Gwen said. “He’s been asking for you all day.”

“Big surprise,” Merlin said, entering and joining Gwen, sitting on the armrest on Arthur’s side.

“Merlin, just a few more weeks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, looking tired all of a sudden. “We hope.”

He lifted Arthur and settled into his space, setting Arthur on their joint lap.

It was a tight fit—the armchair was made for just one person, after all—but Merlin and Gwen, who knew how to make do, made do, gazing at the crackling fire and gossiping in whispers like they’d used to before everything went pear-shaped.

Arthur stayed fast asleep; Gwen hoped his peace would remain when he returned to them as his original self.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi please note that i changed the total-chapters number to 5 from 6, since i thought it'd work better as a 4+1 instead of a 5+1.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter! feedback would be greatly appreciated <3

**IV. Gwaine and the Knights**

Gwaine always found Merlin’s expressions funny, but today’s bewilderment was especially hilarious. In Merlin’s defence, he supposed, one normally wouldn’t find a bunch of knights crowding into a millet storage room in order to confront a hapless manservant. No matter. It was happening anyway. ’Tis Camelot, the land of ~~ridiculous~~  miraculous happenings, and whatnot.

“Merlin, I think it’s time you stopped monopolising our little princess,” Gwaine announced.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of his presence at training even once, and we all miss him terribly,” was Lancelot’s argument.

Leon, Elyan, and Percy said something to the same effect as well, but Gwaine stopped paying attention the minute he spotted tiny fists emerging from behind a large millet sack. He crouched down next to the sack and peeped into the crack between the hessian and the wall.

“H’lo, there,” he said.

Arthur stared at him, chin wobbling, tears shining in his wide eyes: the very picture of angelic despair. Merlin sighed. He raised placatory hands to the rest of the knights and told Gwaine, “He’s throwing a fit because I didn’t let him ride a horse by himself.”

Arthur looked stubborn, angry, and ready to start bawling. “I can _do_ it,” he insisted to Gwaine. “ _Mer_ lin’s being a _clot_ pole. I’m _king_ and I said I can do it!”

Merlin sighed, folding his arms. “You can’t get onto the saddle even with a stool, Arthur. I did offer to ride with you, y’know.”

Arthur crept towards Gwaine. “Wainy, tell him he’s a _clot_ pole.”

Gwaine grinned, taking the hand Arthur proffered him and gently pulling him out. “Can’t do that, love. Merls is making sense for once.”

Arthur sniffled. Merlin knelt beside Gwaine, and the other knights knelt beside Merlin—no one, _no one_ could bear to see their little king upset. Merlin took Arthur’s other hand.

“Now, you’ll be able to ride all the horses you want when you’re older, yeah?” Merlin said, softly squeezing Arthur’s hand. Arthur nodded.

“’Kay,” he whispered.

Gwaine wasn’t mistaking the look of utter relief on Merlin’s face just then.

“Sire, would you like to join all of us for a spot of sparring?” Leon asked. Arthur perked up.

“With swords?” he asked.

“And maces and lances, too,” Elyan promised. Gwaine rather thought two was too early to begin to teach him the art of ~~state-sponsored slaughter~~ defence against enemy soldiers, but he reckoned Uther had probably been even worse.

Arthur’s tears dried and he eagerly clambered up Percy’s side to sit on his shoulders. Of all the knights, Arthur had taken a real shine to Percival, openly in awe of his tree-trunk arms and his height. Gwaine thought it was unfair; he himself had the best hair and beard of the lot but no, Arthur wouldn’t care for those, would he? Not like he’d had a penchant for growing beards when he’d been his usual princessy self.

“Merlinnie,” Arthur said, growing more and more gleeful as Percy slowly got to his feet and lifted Arthur into the air. “I’m going with them.”

“Have fun, sire,” Merlin said, eyes crinkling as he smiled. He looked tired enough to be a living corpse. Gwaine hung back as Elyan, Lance, and the rest left the storage room. Merlin caught his eye and grinned.

“Never a dull moment,” he said.

“Merls, you all right?”

“’Course,” Merlin answered. “It’s just that he keeps me on my feet every minute of every day. Just like he used to.”

Gwaine waited, putting on an infuriatingly knowing look that he knew (heh) Merlin couldn’t help responding to. And as inevitably as summer follows spring, Merlin caved.

“It’s just hard, all right? I never knew Arthur liked me _so_ much.”

“Then you’re the only one who didn’t, mate,” Gwaine said.

“And then sometimes I find myself wishing he’d stay like this just a bit longer,” Merlin sighs. “Because I just _know_ he’s going to be even worse of an ass than before when he turns back because he’s a prat and this’ll all be very embarrassing for him. And also because I won’t be able to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair or hear him say _love you, Merlinnie_ or blow raspberries at me—”

“You never know,” Gwaine says, singsong, giving Merlin a brief one-armed hug. “Go on and get some rest, you look like you haven’t slept properly in ages.” Three weeks, to be precise.

“Got to make a few potions for Gaius,” Merlin says, smiling. “See you later, Gwaine.”

* * *

 

Knights’ training went rather well, all things considered. Leon completely forgot he was supposed to actually be teaching flashy new moves to the knights (since their regular teacher was out of commission) and everybody indulged themselves, pulling out all the stops to entertain their tiny guest.

Gwaine hadn’t known Elyan was such a great actor, going down from one glance of Arthur’s wooden sword and making the ~~worst~~ most hilarious dying speech he’d ever heard. Percy was no better, making exaggerated groans of pain and surrendering in a second. And Caradoc (who’d apparently completely lost it a week or so ago because Arthur’d given him the slip and went off to search for Merlin) just helped Arthur into extremely lightweight mail that all the knights had chipped in towards.

Well, they all had loved adult Arthur and were ready to die for him. It was natural that the two-year-old toddler giggling and screaming and flailing wildly, while everyone watched with the fondest gaze, would wring every drop of avuncular adoration from them.

Stick-in-the-mud Lance was the only one actually teaching Arthur to hold a sword properly. The surprise was that Arthur paid attention and genuinely tried to learn.

Gwaine himself just basked in the sun, taking full advantage of a rare day off, and poked Arthur in the belly and snored loudly whenever Arthur wobbled over to him asking about ‘Merlinnie’ and his whereabouts and, “When’s _Mer_ lin coming, I want to show him I can fight better than ev’ryone!”.

Twice Hunith, Merlin’s mum (who saw through Gwaine’s flirty attentions and just pinched his cheek until he capitulated) interrupted them to whisk Arthur away and bring him back, but all in all, it was a good day.

It was a good day.

* * *

 

Arthur, tired after hours of running around and beating all his knights to a pulp, mumbled gibberish in Gwaine’s arms as Gwaine carried him to Gaius’s infirmary. Gwaine hummed every now and then to carry on the conversation, and Arthur soon nodded off. He really was a darling. Gwaine had been around a few children in his lifetime, but he calmly accepted that he doted on his little king like he’d never doted on another tot.

Merlin was waiting at the door, and waved at Gwaine as Arthur was passed from one set of arms to another.

“Looks like you lot had fun,” Merlin murmured, wiping a thumb across Arthur’s dirty chin.

“He wanted to show off his new moves to you,” Gwaine said. Merlin beamed, kissing Arthur’s crown, doting on Arthur far more than Gwaine ever could. Arthur curled familiarly against the crook of Merlin’s elbow.

“Thanks,” Merlin said. “Isn’t he the tubbiest, most cuddly thing—”

“Careful, your inner mum’s showing,” Gwaine said, poking Merlin’s forehead (the poking thing was _growing_ on him, dammit).

“Night, Gwaine,” Merlin said, nudging the door open with his foot. Gwaine winked at him and walked away backwards, watching as Arthur woke up momentarily, only to dozily nuzzle at Merlin and fall right back asleep.

He understood Merlin’s wish to have Arthur like this for a while more.

But he suspected Merlin might want his old king back worse.


	5. Chapter 5

**V. (I.) Merlin**

“I wonder if I liked being thrown into the air as much as he does,” Merlin said. Hunith laughed, flicking Merlin’s overlarge ear.

“Oh, you did. You managed it all by yourself, too.”

They watched as Gwaine and Percival took turns holding Arthur and lightly casting him up before catching him the next instant, grinning broadly at Arthur’s delighted laughter and demands for them to do it again. Merlin rolled his eyes wryly. He was sure Uther had never indulged Arthur this way, so it hurt his heart to even think about protesting against Gwaine and Percy’s frolicking. Leon and the rest of the knights were half-heartedly drilling nearby, peeking furtively at their beloved king and, if Merlin was right—and he was—taking heart from his cheer.

“Just a few days to go, love,” Hunith said, bumping shoulders with her son. Merlin wound an arm around her and hugged her, brief but tight.

“Thank you so much for coming, Mum,” he whispered. “Wouldn’t have got a thing done around here if you hadn’t taken care of Arthur. He wouldn’t stay with any of the other knights or servants. Even the nobles! But I’m glad he took a shine to you.”

“I think we both know why that was possible,” Hunith replied. Percival gently set Arthur onto the grass. Arthur stumbled around for a bit before plopping down, Gwaine crouching down beside him, ruffling his hair and producing a fine muslin cloth from his pocket (it must have cost him more than three silvers, Merlin noted with chagrin, and promised himself to repay Gwaine for his kindness) to wipe Arthur’s face.

Leon broke away from the knights’ formation, Caradoc and Bedivere and Lancelot (and basically everyone else) following in his wake. Arthur beamed at Leon and stretched out his hands for the knight to pick him up and hold him. Merlin planned to thoroughly rib every single one of those swish soldiers once this whole ordeal was over—only some had children of their own, and over half of them were unmarried, but all of them had transformed into indulgent fathers and older brothers with one look at Arthur’s tiny feet and stubborn pout.

“Arty-Farty’s such a lazy ass,” Merlin muttered, biting back the beam threatening to ruin his insult. “He can very well walk on his own, I made sure of that the first week. He’s so utterly spoilt, Mum, look.”

When Hunith didn’t answer, Merlin glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She had the most annoyingly arch look on her face that suggested she knew far more than what Merlin was letting on. It was so much worse than Gwaine’s from the other day.

“He _is_ a spoilt brat, Mum, c’mon,” Merlin tried.

Hunith just sighed and shook her head with a touch of melodrama. Merlin pulled a sarky face at her; she got him back by taking firm hold of his ear and dragging him and his loud protestations over to the group surrounding their sovereign and laughing at his manservant.

* * *

 

Arthur had fallen into the habit of holding hands with whomever was walking beside him, which explained why his hand was curled fast around Gaius’s finger while the physician took him along on his daily rounds of the castle and surrounding residences.

“What’s that he’s sucking on?” Merlin asked, strolling with them on Arthur’s other side. He sneakily offered his own hand to him, ~~jealous of Gaius~~. Arthur immediately grasped it tightly and took the opportunity to swing both Gaius and Merlin’s arms with his. What a brat, really. What a charming, cuddly brat, insolent and spoilt and darling and roly-poly, lovable—

“Burnt sugar,” Gaius answered, letting out an _oof_ as Arthur started hopping, not letting go of his guardians for a moment. Merlin despaired for the top-hole clothes Arthur had on. Already they were starting to wear from just a few weeks of use; but if Gaius and Merlin were right, Arthur wouldn’t need them any more, in only two days.

“’S tasty,” Arthur pronounced, making ~~cute~~ irritating smacking sounds as he swallowed.

“Yeah?”

“ _Mer_ lin, make some more for me later.”

“As you wish, sire,” Merlin said, extracting his hand from Arthur’s fist to caress Arthur’s hair ~~lovingly~~ and fix it. Arthur tugged his hand back into his hold. “Though you ought to learn to use the magic word when you make requests.”

“Magic word?” Arthur asked.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at Merlin, and stopped at a door. Merlin said,

“Yes, magic word. Haven’t you heard?”

“Saucery?” Arthur spoke. “Magic word is saucery.”

“No, you sprog,” Merlin said. “It’s ‘please’.”

“ _Ga_ ius said it’s saucery,” Arthur said, smug as all hell and pointing at the physician disappearing into his patient’s chambers.

“Well, _I_ say it’s _please_.”

“You’re ob’sly wrong.”

Merlin gaped at Arthur’s dismissiveness. It was so, so reminiscent of his old prat friend that it brought unbidden tears to his eyes. He turned his head away to wipe at them; it was stupid of him to miss someone who was returning to him in just two days. And it wasn’t as if this baby brat clinging to him was a stranger, either. He dearly loved both versions of his friend, different though his affections for each may be, and it didn’t make any sense to cry about useless things.

Merlin suddenly felt a warmth around his calf. He looked down to see Arthur hugging him.

“’M sorry, Merlinnie,” Arthur said, rubbing his tear-wet face into Merlin’s knee. Merlin wanted to poke fun at him—two-year-old Arthur did cry at the drop of a hat, especially when he looked for Merlin and didn’t find him—but instead he got to his knees and thumbed at Arthur’s cheeks. He kissed Arthur’s cute little red nose to make Arthur smile through his tears.

“You’re such a crybaby,” Merlin said, choked up, poking fun at Arty anyway. “Silly little girl’s petticoat. Why’re you even saying sorry?”

Arthur toddled into Merlin’s embrace. “I hurt you,” he said, muffled. “I hurt my Merlinnie. I love my Merlinnie _so_ much. ’M sorry.”

“You didn’t hurt me at all, Arty-Farty. You didn’t do a thing.” Merlin closed his eyes and patted Arthur’s back, vision half-filled with Arthur’s radiant gold hair, smelling of lavender. Little Arthur’s sweat thankfully didn’t stink like his adult self’s did—not that Merlin would ever tell him that. ~~~~

* * *

Arthur didn’t stop crying after that and wouldn’t speak another word, no matter how much Merlin told him he was completely all right, no matter how many times Merlin or Hunith or Lance or Gwen made silly faces at him or smiled or hugged or cuddled him. He’d just stick to Merlin’s leg and bawl louder if anyone tried to pull him away.

It didn’t help that his crying seemed to be infectious, saddening other people and making them weep as well—affecting Merlin worst of all, who really couldn’t bear to see Arthur hiccuping and rubbing at his red eyes and curling into a ball in Merlin’s arms.

Merlin finally took matters into his own hands and set off towards Arthur’s deserted chambers. Arthur had quieted down, clinging to Merlin like a limpet and sniffling every now and then. He still wouldn’t speak.

“Hey, Arty,” Merlin said softly, shutting the door and sitting down in front of the fireplace. He was surprised—well, not really—by how quickly he had got used to doing all his usual chores with Arthur’s extra weight on his back. It was a piece of cake manoeuvring Arthur out of the way and still have him running circles around Merlin.

The fireplace was stocked with dry wood, but unlit. A chill hung in the air and Merlin hadn’t thought to bring something warm, so he sat back and brought his knees up a bit, parting his legs and settling Arthur in the vee, embracing him so Merlin was now his blanket.

Arthur slumped against Merlin’s front, still upset. At least the tears had stopped.

“Want to see some magic?” Merlin whispered, leaning down to rest his cheek against Arthur’s ear.

Arthur nodded jerkily.

It was too much to hope that Arthur wouldn’t remember this after everything was over, but Merlin had tried every other means of distracting Arthur—and given the choice to either see Arthur happy or keep concealing his sorcery, well, it wasn’t really a choice at all.

Merlin brought his hands into Arthur’s sightline and snapped his fingers.

A fire rose up in the grate, crackling and spitting as if it had been going for hours. Arthur gasped, resting his delicate, sticky-wet hands on Merlin’s fingers (Merlin brought them up and kissed them, hoping for all his adoration and affection for his little king to seep through the contact).

“Magic,” Arthur gasped. “Saucery!”

“Saucery,” Merlin agreed.“Want to see some more?”

Arthur nodded again, trying to twist around to face Merlin, but Merlin held him tighter and cupped his hands in front of Arthur’s chest. He whispered a spell he knew very well; a dragon materialised above his joint palms, composed of sparkling dust that resembled stars.

Arthur went very quiet as the dragon flapped its wings and twirled in the air, reaching hesitantly for it. The dragon settled on his finger like a butterfly would. Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s face very well, but he hoped there was wonderment on it.

“More?” he asked. Arthur nodded again.

And Merlin pulled out all the stops. The floor beneath them turned to lush grass, the fire grew sheltered beneath grand old boughs. Peaches and plums and apples and cherries dropped in multitudes to the ground and birdsong rippled through the air, calling to Arthur, and bright sunlight filtered through the canopy of the trees around them, dappling Merlin and Arthur where they sat.

Yet Arthur didn’t move an inch from the cage of Merlin’s embrace.

“D’you like it?” Merlin said.

“Yes,” Arthur whispered, and Merlin definitely wasn’t mistaking the awe in his voice.

“I’m glad,” Merlin said, hoping against hope that if grown-up Arthur remembered, he wouldn’t banish or execute Merlin after seeing this.

Maybe this was his last chance. He should take it. He should definitely take it, say all the things he knew he’d never be able to tell his old friend.

“Arthur,” he began, letting the illusion vanish with another snap of his fingers. Arthur again tried to see Merlin, but Merlin rested heavily on Arthur’s fragile, vulnerable shoulder. “Arthur, I love you so much. I could never hate you, or ever think a bad thing about you.”

“Love you too, Merlinnie,” Arthur said, sounding like he was about to start sobbing again.

“I will always be here for you. You’re my darlingest favouritest person ever—don’t tell my mum that, okay? She thinks it’s her.”

“Shan’t tell mummy,” Arthur promised solemnly.

“I am always, always going to be by your side and protect you. Your happiness is the most important thing to me. And even if you think you’ve hurt me, Arty-Farty, I know you don’t mean it, and I know you feel bad afterwards. So I’ll never ever really be hurt, okay?”

“’Kay,” Arthur whispered.

“That isn’t permission to say whatever you want, though, so watch out or I’ll never bring you burnt sugar again.”

“Meanie,” Arthur snapped immediately.

Merlin snickered, and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple. Arthur was so soft. And tiny. And delicate and so breakable in more than one way.

“You’ll alw—all ways be here?” Arthur asked, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Merlin had thought two-year-olds were usually far more gullible—not that he hadn’t meant his words; he’d meant every single one. But Arthur was showing, had shown all this time, a maturity beyond his years… and also the kind of doubt Merlin vehemently wanted to see eradicated from his heart.

“Forever and ever and ever and ever,” Merlin swore.

“Me too, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said softly.

* * *

 

Gaius had been correct in his estimation. Two days later, Arthur woke as his usual self in his own bed (Merlin had put little Arthur to bed there despite the tantrums Arthur had thrown with gusto) and summoned Gaius immediately.

To Merlin’s confusion, he was kicked out by Arthur right afterwards.

Hunith left soon after, dropping by to talk to the king and being annoyingly secretive about the meeting to Merlin.

“How could you do this to me,” Merlin asked, affecting distress.

“They do say you shouldn’t favour one of your children over the other, but I suppose that’s what I’ve done,” Hunith said, smiling cheekily at him and fiddling with his neckerchief as mothers are wont to do. Merlin gasped in mock-outrage—what other child did she have, and how dare Merlin not be the topmost priority in her eyes—and hugged her tightly, missing her already.

“Trim your hair for _heaven’s_ sake,” he heard, his mum’s voice stifled. “And I tried to feed you as much as I could—don’t think Gaius hasn’t told me how you skip meals running around after the king—but I hope to see you putting on some weight. You live in _Camelot_ , you might as well show it.”

“Love you, too, mum,” Merlin sang.

“He’ll talk to you soon, darling. Stop worrying.”

“Wasn’t,” Merlin said. Hunith just pinched his cheek and sighed.

* * *

 

Nearly a week went by before Merlin was allowed to see Arthur again. Gwen was being annoying, avoiding all his pointed questions and breezily chatting about things he _knew_ she didn’t care about, like the position of the sun in the sky (who gives a damn?) and the changing of the seasons (what changing, they were right in the midst of one). Gaius would just raise his eyebrow at him (and Merlin, cowed, would retreat to his room, licking his wounds) and Gwaine, that bastard was the absolute _worst_ —smirking and smirking and smirking until Merlin reconsidered his I’m-never-going-to-learn-to-inflict-physical-violence stance.

“Morning, sire,” Merlin said, shuffling into the room.

Arthur, thankfully back to his original size and looking like he’d never been a grotty two-year-old brat in his life, looked up from his breakfast.

“Sit,” Arthur said, nodding at the chair on the other side of the table.

“Who’s been serving you this past— _George_ ,” Merlin said with not a little distaste, pleased inwardly to see Arthur fight back a smile at that.

“Merlin, before I say anything else, please allow me to—”

“Since when have you been _this_ painfully polite around me?” Merlin asked, swinging his legs freely in the chair, overcompensating for the awkwardness almost tangible between them. Arthur snorted.

“Fine. I’ve been informed that I’ve you to thank for taking care of me while I was… indisposed—” Merlin rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out; only Arthur would use such _stupid_ euphemisms— “and I’m grateful to have had your affection and devotion as well as that of Guinevere, Gaius, Hunith, my knight brethren… all right, no one needed to tell me about you. I remember everything.”

Merlin’s face fell. “Everything.”

“Everything,” Arthur said simply.

“Well, should I begin packing to run back to Ealdor before you take an axe to my neck?”

Arthur, the utter prat, actually pretended to consider it. “Seeing as I’ve known about your magic for ages now, close your mouth you look like an idiot, I’m going to, shall we say, _overlook_ the fact that you made a forest grow in this very room.”

“I only did it to stop you from getting snot all over my tunic.” Merlin stored away his panic and relief for later.

“Oh, I believe you.”

“Why wouldn’t you let me see you this past week?” Merlin asked, hopeful fingers inching towards a hunk of wheat bread. Arthur sighed and pointedly looked away.

“It was. Embarrassing. To contemplate my unrestrained behaviour around you this past month. And I needed the time to gather the nerve to face you again.”

Merlin did very much appreciate Arthur’s unusual honesty, but really: “For heaven’s sake, Arthur, I changed your _nappies_ —”

“— _Mer_ lin, shut _up!_ —” (The outrage on Arthur’s face was such a treat—)

“I should be the one saying that! But I’m not, so you’ve definitely no reason to!”

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “Thank you, Merlin. For everything.”

Merlin shrugged, now shamelessly reaching for Arthur’s cheese. Arthur gave up and pushed his entire tray towards Merlin.

“Greedy pig,” he muttered.

“Mum got me used to eating a lot,” Merlin said, being disgusting and talking with his mouth full just to see Arthur ~~be cute and~~ wrinkle his nose. “What’d you talk about with her, anyway?”

“Oh, nothing,” Arthur said airily. “Things.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“What’d I say?” Merlin asked, taking a swig of ale from Arthur’s goblet—it was only fair and it wasn’t even as if he needed to worry about drinking from a cup Arthur had drunk from before; over the past month he had been subjected to everything from Arthur’s snot to his spit to his less tolerable substances.

“A couple of days ago. After the forest.”

Merlin wallowed in the shy look on Arthur’s face for a full minute before he answered, “I don’t lie to insolent little tubby brats.”

“ _Tubby—_ ” Arthur started, half-rising from his seat.

“You know it.” Merlin snatched a bread roll and prepared to make a run for it.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Merlin,” Arthur sighed. “Only you. Only you.”

“Only me what?”

Merlin’s attempts to set Arthur at ease were going so well that he almost preened.

“Listen, Merlin,” Arthur said, shaking his head and grinning, making Merlin appreciate very much the line of his adult jaw and the chiselled look of his adult nose and the adult hair that probably stank of adult sweat. “I meant it too.”

“Meant what? You barely even said anything, you were crying. Like a crybaby. Snot on my tunic and my hands and in my _hair_ , I tell you—”

“ _Merlin._ ”

Merlin stopped and set the bread roll down with some regret.

“Thank you for making the most vulnerable month of my life also the happiest.”

Oh, wonderful, now Merlin was going to be the crybaby.

“I remember telling you I love you, and I do, very much—though I do not feel for you like my child self did.”

“’S all right,” Merlin said weakly. The love confession had sapped all his strength. Not even an hour in Arthur’s presence and the prat was back at it. “I don’t love you like I loved that tubby git either.”

“I wasn’t tubby.”

“Your cheeks wobbled when I flicked them.”

“Good God, Merlin. All babies have that.”

“So you were saying something about how you loved me to the ends of the world and back, and how you would renounce the throne, fight entire armies single-handedly for me.”

“Yes. That. Would you be amenable to my kissing you now?”

Merlin examined his nails. Then the bit of cheese he’d spared for Arthur. Then a spot of dust on his breeches and then Arthur, the stealthy ass, tilted his face up and kissed him sweetly. Merlin kissed him back, because of course he did.

“Thank you,” Arthur repeated.

“I’ll save my thanks for the two-year-old who spouted everything you were allergic to saying,” Merlin answered.

“I promise I shall be more forthright from now on,” Arthur said. Merlin kissed him again, just for that. “And Hunith only dropped by to tell me I’m her favourite.”

“ _WHAT._ ”

“Her favourite son-in-law,” Arthur said, grinning. “Though she did acknowledge I’m already married to Gwen.”

Merlin grumbled for show but, once again, had to grit his teeth to prevent himself from beaming so hard his face broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so, so much for all your lovely feedback while the story was still ongoing. I hope you enjoyed this last chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading, your kudos and comments mean _everything_ to me and I love you all so much :')  <3333


	6. arty-farty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's just a rough sketch of arty-farty in one of his old tunics and merlin's neckerchief~ but still~

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155629973@N06/28220080917/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i have never once claimed to be any good at art.

**Author's Note:**

> I present to you Merlinnie and Arty-Farty, destined to bring Camel Lot into a Golden Age and unite Al Bin using saucery and king stuff~


End file.
